


Catch Me Before I Fall

by thewriterandmuse



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, References to Depression, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 01:24:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14153658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterandmuse/pseuds/thewriterandmuse
Summary: The nightmares come nightly. No matter how hard she tries, Phaeydra cannot seem to shake them. As she struggles to continue fighting, help comes in the most unlikely of places. But is it enough to pull her from the abyss?





	Catch Me Before I Fall

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt originally sent to me on tumblr was for an affectionate, fluff filled response for a pairing of my choice. However, as I began Phaeydra took the reins and basically told me that fluff and sweetness was not in the cards for this. For those who have struggled to stay afloat and keep your inner demons at bay, this oneshot might not be for you. I've rated it mature just to be safe. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

The nightmares plague Phaeydra nightly. Infinite darkness, the void, shadowy tendrils of nothingness, dark whispers surround her in an ominous blanket. Their words hushed, their cold breath barely grazing her sensitive, soft flesh. They urge her to dig deeper into the darkness, to give into the cold, to allow them access into the deep recesses of her mind. To fall into their embrace is their desire. They can show her so many things. So many of the base, carnal desires she locks behind the facade of a Jedi. She is nothing but padawan, a pawn for their gain. As she sits there in the void, she draws her knees inwards and up, burrowing her face in them. She begs for them to go away in a soft whisper. They care not of her terror, the pain in her skull. In fact, they thrive on it, gaining strength and momentum. The whispers continue to taunt her until morning, even after she wakes to prep for her lessons.

Even as she grows and becomes a Jedi Knight, the nightmares continue. Her masters know of her plight. Have taught her techniques to assist in quelling the raging darkness within. And during the day these techniques work. She is hyper focused and driven to push the whispers to the wayside and out of her mind. But night after night, despite her stubbornness, they return more powerful than the last. They hiss cruelly into her ears. Pull at her limbs and her hair. They are no longer just intangible whispers, just like she is no longer a child. They take shadowy form with vivid glowing yellow eyes, towering over her and staring. She yells at them, screams at them to leave her alone. All they do is laugh and taunt her further. Showing her death after death of everyone she knows. From infant to adult, the darkness slaughters them all without care until only she remains. And by morning, her body awakens drenched in a cold sweat with a shrill scream just on the tip of her lips.

Kira, bless her soul, worries for her master, her friend. She knows of her master’s history, of how she and a group of padawans were abducted by the sith at the age of eight. How the masters couldn’t find them until an SIS agent deeply embedded in Empire territory gave critical intelligence on their location two years later. Her master was the only one to survive the assault. She knows how sensitive miraluka are to the force. She can’t even begin to imagine watching each force signature burn into oblivion. It’s excruciating enough to feel it. She knows, despite Phaeydra’s strength in the daytime, her master is suffering. She wonders if the other masters know how critical their Battlemaster’s sense of self and stability is slowly beginning to crumble.

Phaeydra knows her strength is waning. After the Emperor’s possession, the darkness residing in the back of her mind is now at its strongest. Even after she destroys his physical body she can still feel his presence. And sometimes, out of the corner of her force sight, she gets a glimpse of fleeting shadow slithering along the walls of her ship or along the ceiling of the fleet. But every time she thinks about turning her head to look at it, she stops herself. She doesn’t want to see. She doesn’t want to watch her nightmares slowly bleed into reality. The dark whispers slowly seep into her ears into the day time. And it absolutely terrifies her when she turns a corner on the fleet and sees a black mass standing at the top of the stairs, staring down at her with those glowing yellow eyes, with a cheshire grin stretched grotesquely across its face, rowed with pointed sharp teeth. Before she can scream a droid pulls her attention away from her horrors with a trill and a beep. A T3-G2 unit rolls to her and beeps, beginning a holocall. Her attention and skills are needed elsewhere for something important. As the Hero of Tython, it was her duty to see this “event” to its full fruition. The title still leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She doesn’t deserve it. So, she heads to the lift to meet the young man on the other end.

His force signature almost punches the breath out of her. It is the most beautiful she’s ever seen. A soft golden hue that never wavers even as he walks around the room and speaks of the plan to attack Korriban. So different than the others she’s seen throughout her life. The colonel’s signature was so…pale in comparison. In fact, the colonel’s signature worries her. Something is wrong, very wrong. But she can’t place it no matter how hard she focuses on it. There is something he’s not telling them. And when things fall apart after their attack on Korriban, the shifting energy around the colonel unnerves Phaeydra to the point where she can’t trust anything he has to say, even after she assists in retaking Tython. Apparently, Theron Shan has the same sort of inclination.

When the truth of the attacks on Korriban and Tython come to the forefront, and the traitors plot comes to fruition despite their deaths, Phaeydra is knocked back by the shear amount of force energy Revan exudes. She watches as his signature morphs and shifts, mixes with the gold and black energies in such a way that she doesn’t know what to make of it. A part of her is disturbed, sickened by the display, but on the other hand she is intrigued by it. So different than her masters, so different than the many sith she’s fought. But something is still so wrong with it she knows she must destroy it. It is too close to the darkness that claws its way through her night after night. The only thing that remotely calms her raging emotions at after returning to Manaan is the calming, potent force signature of Theron Shan. But she doesn’t know why that’s the case. Unfortunately, Lana and he must go into hiding, wanted traitors to the Republic and Empire alike. The thought scares her. It also unnerves her just how much she’s come to rely on his presence in such a short amount of time. They still barely knew each other outside of a professional setting. She’ll be fine she tells herself. This is no different than before they met.

The darkness attacks her at full force in the night. Clawing at her skin, tearing into it, bruising and making it bleed. The shadows swirl around her form furiously as they work to crush her. The darkest whispers they’ve ever told her are now screams and rabid. They tear her face mask off. Rip her clothes. Pull hard at her legs and arms. And Phaeydra tries to resist screaming in agony. The darkness is enraged, throwing image after image of the death and destruction they will bring to everyone and everything around her. They promise to destroy everything about her from her flesh to her soul. She is theirs and theirs alone. Their puppet to do what they wish. Phaeydra knows she can’t fight it anymore. Her body is too beaten and broken. Despite her best effort, she cries out in pain and despair, the tendrils of darkness pull her closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, below it lays the endless swirling void. She knows tonight is the night she’s going to fall. She no longer has the energy to fight the whispers and threats. Her head hanging in defeat as the shadows close in behind her, their glowing yellow eyes glaring in loathing and disgust. They hiss at her to take the plunge. Broken, she moves one foot forward off the cliff, and the cheshire grins return. Fall they say, join us in the void.

A pregnant pause ensues as Phaeydra’s body wavers between that precipice of light and dark. And as Phaeydra is just about to give up and give in, as her body slowly begins to fall off that cliff, something brings her decent to a halt. The shadows’ whispers abruptly stop. Her head rises to find out why, what stopped her from giving the shadows what they’ve wanted for years. As she’s pulled back from that cliff she turns to look at her wrist. A soft golden hue is wrapped around it, holding her gently, guiding her to stand back at full height and turn to face the demons that plague her. The golden energy shift and wraps itself up and around her forearm, pressing itself tightly, yet not uncomfortably, around it and glows brighter. The familiarity startles her just as much as the surge of the cleansing strength that carries itself through her body. The shadows begin to growl dangerously in front of her, snarling as their eyes go from a glowing yellow to red. Their forms shifting larger and morphing together into a large black mass. As it moves towards her quickly to try and consume her Phaeydra uses every ounce of strength given to her to plant herself in place, muscles taut and ready to push back. She screams as she flings her arms forward and sends out a large force of blue energy, the strongest she’s given in years, towards the shadows rushing towards her.

The mass screams as the energy hits. Mixing with and tearing it apart. A blinding light forms and yet despite the pain it brings her, Phaeydra continues the force push. Willing herself continue fighting. She can feel the golden energy encouraging her onwards, assisting in her attack. Flashes of her friends during childhood being slaughtered give way to them peacefully smiling as their souls join the force. Images of her torturers taunting and causing her physical pain give way to the Jedi finding her and treating her wounds. The laughter of her companions as they sit and eat a meal overcome the threats the darkness tries to throw forward at her. And with one final scream she sends a blast of energy that obliterates the dark mass trying to consume her. Chest heaving, she looks around and takes in her surroundings. She is finally alone. The cliff and swirling void is gone. The dark swirls of nothing around her gives way to a pale light gray. She looks down at her hands and watches the golden hue fluctuate between bright and soft, expecting it to leave now that its duty is done. But it doesn’t. A quiet sob escapes her as she collapses to her knees, energy spent, and unconsciousness slowly begins to take hold. Words of thanks don’t quite make it past her lips as she falls into slumber. Once she’s sleeping, the wisps of gold around her forearms loosen, but don’t let go. It instead travels upward, caressing and soothing every part of her skin until it reaches her heart. From there it lays softly against the beating of her chest, and melds into her skin, the rest of it following suit along the rest of her body.

When Phaeydra awakens in the morning, she doesn’t feel the darkness in her mind anymore. Only the gentle tug of a familiar, protective, force signature.


End file.
